


Drabbles: general fiction (LOTR 2007)

by claudia603



Category: Lord of the Rings (2001 2002 2003)
Genre: Angst, Drabble Collection, Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-25
Updated: 2010-04-25
Packaged: 2017-10-09 03:38:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/82611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/claudia603/pseuds/claudia603
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of general fiction drabbles written in 2007.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drabbles: general fiction (LOTR 2007)

Frodo had finally drifted to sleep after tossing and turning on the cold ground. He slipped into a beautiful dream about a grassy clearing in a silver forest far beyond Time. A man sang in Elvish, his voice fair and strong. A maiden danced upon the dew-laden grass of the clearing. Her feet were pale, and gems like fallen stars were woven into her black tresses. Her laughter brightened the sun, and the wildflowers turned to her for light.

The song halted, and Frodo woke, shivering, and he saw with new admiration yet another layer of depth to this Ranger.

* * *

When the chill gripped his shoulder, writing offered him an escape that nothing else could. It was not so much that he wished to relive the horrors of the quest, but writing about them gave him power over them and took away the helplessness of the memory. If he curled up in bed, tucked in and cared for by Sam and Rose (bless them), then he was helpless to the deep bone-frosting cold, and he felt himself swept into gray-chill worlds. Far better to let the quill anchor him so that rather than seeing cruel white faces, he looked instead upon the dear faces of friends hovering over him, filled with love and concern. He wrote about the soft material of cloaks wrapped around him to keep him warm, and the crackle of fire.

He wrote all through the night until the chill waned with the rising of the new day.

* * *

"Let me see it."

Frodo shrank from his cousin and covered the back of his neck with his hand. He swallowed against the revulsion. Touching his old wound brought back a nightmare blur of black legs rushing at him from behind with merciless fangs.

"I'm not going to touch," Merry said. "I only want to see."

"Why?" Frodo asked, and he gestured toward the White Tree. "There is so much beauty now -- sunlight and real bread and laughter. Why would you want to see...that?"

"Because it is something that you experienced without me."

Frodo met his gaze and understood.

* * *


End file.
